


Words in My Skin

by Black_Hole11



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Insecure Jared Kleinman, Jared Kleinman Is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Jared Kleinman, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Hole11/pseuds/Black_Hole11
Summary: After the fight with Evan, Jared is a mess.
Relationships: Evan Hansen & Jared Kleinman, Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	1. The Fight

TW: Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts

  
“Fuck you, Evan! Asshole!”

I ran away from him, my only friend, or as I say, family friend. Of course, Evan didn’t know he was my only friend, or at least I thought he did. Let me tell you about Evan. I had known Evan Hansen since we were six. His dad had left, and his mom worked almost constantly to provide for him. He had social anxiety, and stuttered whenever he spoke. We used to be great friends, until middle school. 

Kids started teasing me for hanging out with Evan, the weird loser. I was already bullied for my choice of clothing, my slight chubbiness, my glasses, my braces, and my geekiness. I was sick of being teased and taunted. So I separated myself from him. Called him my family friend, teased him like the kids at school teased me, said I hung out with him only for my allowance, which I switched to car insurance junior year. I held him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.

Then, beginning of senior year, Connor Murphy died. He had taken Evan’s therapy letter, and then overdosed in a park with the letter. He had also signed Evan’s cast, from when Evan fell out of a tree last summer, which made his parents think he was friends with Evan, the cast being exhibit A, with the “suicide note”, exhibit B. Connor’s parents thought that Connor wrote the letter to Evan, and wouldn’t accept that they weren’t friends. So when they invited him over for dinner, Evan, being Evan, managed to weave a story about how they wrote emails to each other on a secret account, because of course he chose something that makes them sound like lovers.

The thing is, when Evan begs you for something, it is _really_ hard to resist those eyes. So I, in a lapse of judgement, agreed to help him. And of course, I got screwed over. The one time when I didn’t keep him at arm’s length, he found my weaknesses. Because the truth is, I am weak. Pathetic, useless, and worthless. I’m an insecure asshole, and that’s all I’ve ever been. I lie about my car insurance just because I want to be with him, but I know that if I told the truth, I would be hurt. And I was anyway.

I wrote backdated emails with him, a correspondence between him and Connor. We wrote loads of these fabricated emails. Then, Evan came up with the idea for the Connor Project. Alana Beck, determined as ever, forced herself into the role of co-president, and me into the role of treasurer. And because it was Evan, I really did try to help, I worked too, no matter what people think.

Evan got famous worldwide for his speech, a beautiful sentiment about being found. He became popular. And once he was popular, he dropped me. I mean, who cares about the asshole who says that you’re only family friends and that he only hangs out with you for car insurance? So I confronted him, and he hit back. He took all my insecurities that I try so hard to hide, and threw them into my face. And now I have nobody.

My parents never really cared about me. They constantly go off onto business trips, and I’m left alone. I only have Evan. Without him, I’m alone. 

I opened the door to my house, and slammed it behind me, still crying. Pathetic idiot. You deserve it. I went up to my room, opened my desk drawer, and took out an x-acto knife. Freak. I uncapped it, grabbed a red towel I had stolen, and sat on it after laying it on my bed. Failure. I pulled my pants down, bunching them around my ankles. Ugly piece of shit. Putting the blade to a blank space on my scarred thigh, I pushed down and dragged it across. Blood bubbled up to meet the blade, and I wiped it away with the towel. Slowly and painfully, letters formed on my fat, disgusting thigh, forming the words _KILL YOURSELF_. I grabbed some gauze from my desk drawer used specifically for this purpose, and wrapped the wound up. The day afterwards, I went to school, avoided Evan the entire time, went home, and carved another word. This repeated over and over. School, avoid, home, cut, sleep. My grades worsened as I stopped doing homework, only doing it on the bus or at school. 

After this had gone on for about a month, the blood and the words and the closing in on myself, something unexpected happened. 


	2. Evan’s Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan comes to Jared’s house to apologize. Angst ensues.

TW: Graphic Description of Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts

  
I had just finished bandaging my new cuts, when somebody rang the doorbell. My mom, home for spring break, let them inside.

I had already washed my hands clean of blood, so I rushed to hide my tool. I grabbed the blade and tossed it in a desk drawer, then threw an preschool drawing of Evan I had laid out on my desk to remind me of all that I lost, on top of it. I grabbed a sweater and put it on to cover my arms. There was no time to put pants on, as I heard footsteps walking towards my room. I jumped back into bed, and pulled the blankets over me and the bloody towel just as my door opened.

And of all the people who could be standing there, it was Evan fucking Hansen, all blue eyed and blonde haired and anxious.

“Ughh,” I groaned. “Let’s get this over with.”

Evan stepped into my room, fidgety and nervous as always. Then again, apparently I don’t know Evan as well as I thought I did. He shuffled around awkwardly, until I gestured towards my desk chair. After a few minutes of silence, in which he seemed to expect me to say something, Evan finally spoke.

“I’m really sorry for what happened with the Connor Project and I told the Murphy’s and I’m so sorry,” he shot out quickly.

“No, it’s my fault. I told you to lie. I’m an asshole, and I know it,” I said bitterly.

He looked down, not knowing what to say to that.

“I mean, I call you a family friend, tease you all the time, and more.”

I looked up sharply. “Why are you here?”

“What?” He said, looking at me confused.

“I said, why are you here? I’ve been a huge jerk, I’m not a good person, and you know this. So why are you trying when I don’t deserve it?”

Evan looked sad at that comment.”You may not have been the nicest, but you were always there for me, even if you were sarcastic and mean. We used to be really good friends in elementary school, I hoped you still had some of that in you.”

He noticed the drawing in the drawer, and spoke again.

“I just wish that we could go back to the way we were back then, close friends where we could bake together, draw pictures of the other and such” he lamented and lifted the drawing in my drawer to show me.

Suddenly, I remembered the purpose of the drawing, and called out, “Stop!”

But the damage had already been done. Evan looked at me with a horrified look in his eyes. Before I could say a word, he took the corners of my blankets, and with a flick of his wrist, sent them flying off me. I didn’t realize that his look of horror could increase any more, but I was wrong.

He looked at my thighs, aghast, as he took in the myriad of scars I had left on myself. Multitudes of hateful words, like worthless. Freak. Selfish. But the one that took the cake was kill yourself. 

I had picked the scab off of it whenever it scabbed over, and carved over it when it scarred, so it always hurt. It took up an entire strip of my thigh, and was a deep, glistening red, as it had stopped bleeding but was still deep, and it was obvious it had been made over and over. It was large, and unfortunately for me, easy to read. 

Evan silently went into my bathroom, and took bacitracin, and extra gauze I kept there. He put a washcloth under the tap, and turned on the warm water for a few seconds, before squeezing out the excess water and walking over to me. He dabbed at my cuts for a minute before using the tissues I had on my bedside table to wipe them dry gently, and then applied bacitracin and put the gauze on. He wrapped the wound with bandages, and I winced in pain. He gave me an apologetic look.

“We’re going to need to tell your parents about this, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is kind of like impromptu therapy for me, to see that people like my work. Kudos and comments increase my low self esteem. Also, say in the comments if you found the reference!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this self-inspired work, kudos are appreciated.


End file.
